The Flower and the Tumbleweed
by secretscars
Summary: She was like his anchor, holding him steady when needed and letting him venture off when ready. Tate left a lot but always came back to her, because after all, every ship needs an anchor. I SUCK BALLS AT SUMMARIES.
1. Chapter 1

****AUTHORS NOTE: okay, so this is my first story, I am in love with American horror story and have always loved reading fan fiction but never actually wrote it myself. It's probably going to suck and this might be a one shot if no one likes it. Okay so enjoy (hopefully) ****

**DICLAMER: I own nothing but the storyline. **

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The crunching of snow being demolished under the soles of Violets converse was the only sound that punctuated the perfectly crisp February air as she walked home. Trudging to her house she noted that her bag was unusually heavy for a Friday, ignoring the realization of this she goes to grasp the door knob to her house. It's locked. She groans resting her head on the pastel pink colored door her mother _insisted _would look fabulous.

"Fuck." She mutters out an icy breath.

Turning on her heel she ventures to the side of her house to retrieve a key that is always kept in the flower pot next to the back door. How original. She sucks in a hissing breath after her left leg is buried it the knee deep snow. Even though she's covered in multiple layers of various clothing items, she's still only wearing tights on her legs. She grasps a hold of her hat with one hand keeping it on her head and pushes through the cold leaking through her tights. After she finally makes it through what seems to be a sea of thickly drying cement disguised as snow, she clings to the railing of the steps. Once she finally looks up she realizes something is terribly wrong.

The back door is slightly ajar with lost snowflakes falling from the gutter lightly dancing in and out of the frame. Peering through the ever so slightly open door, she sees nothing but an abyss of black. She racks through her brain thinking of anyone who might be home. Not her mother, she gets of work at selling shit coffee and even worse food at six. Obviously, her father isn't in the house since her mother kicked his ass out 8 months earlier for sleaze balling it with one of his whore students and threw a knife at his head to seal the deal.

She is broken from her thoughts by the high pitched scream of the door hinges being slightly moved from the wind. Simply being one with the cold Violet, ascends the stairs and starts for the door. Pushing it open the rest of the way she steps inside and soaks in her surroundings, nothing seems to be out of place. Everything is still pin straight and clean, all of the perfectly out of date furniture still lies where it always has, and everything desirable to steal in her breadbox of a home is accountable for.

Not being convinced she's alone she continues to scope out the house for another two minutes. Once her blood pressure and interest in the situation seizes to boil within her anymore, she decides to turn in the towel of finding her ax murderer stowed away in one of the closets.

Taking the stairs two at a time to the only room on the second level, she goes to open her door, and start her homework. When finally inside her room, she realizes she hasn't checked upstairs yet. Before she even has an actual chance to process this, she feels two strong arms wrapping around her torso and pulling her small frame back into the hallway with a sharp tug. Her bony body flailed angrily against the steal fingertips of the intruder but does little to stop the oncoming attack. After a few short moments that feels like hours later, the attackers grasp loosens and he backs away.

Brow furrowed, violet turns to face the intruder and finds him hunched over but still standing with arms cradled around his abdomen as if he's been dealt a hard blow to the gut. When she hears him howl with laughter and sees his shoulder quake with giggly hiccups she realizes it's not an intruder at all. Not really anyway. It's her best friend.

"SCREW YOU TATE!" she shoves him hard into the wall and if he wasn't so caught off guard by laughing the shove would have been futile with its attempts but it was just enough have his back be pressed into the wall

"Damn, I'm glad to see you too sunshine. What I can't surprise my favorite person I the whole world?" He's sardonic.

'No," she says flatly pushing past him feigning boredom but the scowl she's plastered on her face gives her away. He got to her. His whole life seems to be jumbled moments of him simply trying to get to her and it's starting to piss her off. She doesn't look back but can tell he's following her to the kitchen. When finally in the kitchen she heads for the cabinet fishing out a mug for coffee and then turns to find him sitting at the kitchen table. Following in suit she pulls out a chair and pushes the steaming liquid and into his waiting hand while sitting down too.

"What happened?" she questions. Taking in his exterior. Overly tousled blond winglets framing his face with a load of grease at the roots, sunken brown eyes being eclipsed by prominent bags lining his eyes, and dirtied clothes to pull the whole thing together. He takes an huge slurp of the coffee, waiting for the caffeine to sink in before answering.

"Things got bad again." He answered after a while averting her eyes, words laced with a secret apology for leaving her again. She nods her head knowing the routine by now. Things get bad at home with Tate, so he leaves for a few days and then goes to crash at violets for a few more days. It been that way since pre-k.

Violet and Tate's friendship wasn't normal, but neither were they and for some reason, even though it was fucked up what they had, whatever they had, was enough. Belated I'm sorry's, elongated sleepovers, continuous ball busting, sadistic senses of humor, and an uncalled out dependency on each other was enough. For now. Because no matter how many times Tate left, he never forgot to come back to his flower.

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…

**Continue? **


	2. Chapter 2

Silver rays of light cutting through the blinds is what wakes her. That and the unequivocal, not ignorable snore of a teen boy. Rolling over to find the one and only Tate Langdon asleep on the floor next to her bed. Snorting she runs her finger through her hair, massages the sleep from her eyes, and, the only way you can avoid a sleeping boy on the floor of your room, leaps over Tate's still sleeping body.

Journeying into the kitchen, simply trying to find the most abhorrent way to wake Tate, instead finds a note written in too curly cursive for her liking.

_Violet, I took the morning shift in work so I can get off next Friday to have a girls day, I know we haven't been able to hang out a lot and this year hasn't been ideal for the both of us. You shouldn't have to expand a relationship with your mother through words written on a paper, so I'm going to show you how proud I am of you for being so strong next week._

_Love always,_

_Mom _

Brows stitched together with iron force for Violet lets out a shake breath through flared nostrils. She loved her mom, but always found a way of hiding the problems in their life through the words on a paper and in the compartments of a gift. Just because its hidden doesn't mean it's gone. And then there's the drinking, but that's another story. She rereads the note twice, fingering over the words as she goes, deeply craving a cigarette more and more each word reread.

Just as she's slipping the note away in the garbage Tate walks mumbling incoherent sentences. She leans on the nearby fridge eyeing him comically and she thwarts his action of retrieving the orange juice.

"Hey morning glory, you look sexy like that." She comments on his overly tousled curls and still set sleep face.

He kicks her in the shin with all the just woken energy he can muster. Laughing as she averts another kick, she slaps him in the back while he gets his juice then she goes looking for something to eat in the cabinet just west of where Tate is. Once she discovers a box of whole grain granola clusters she hops on the counter cross legged and offers up the box to Tate after popping a lone cluster in her mouth. Tate drunkenly staggers to Violet and uncivilly rotates his hand around inside the box until he finds just the right amount of clusters to eat.

Leaning against the counter next to Violet, he shoves the whole handful of granola clusters into his mouth and chews open mouthed and sloppily do to over stuffing his face. Violet still can't help but note that his hair is shining with grease, his face and torso are bathed and dirt, and he smells like a dog took a shit on him.

"You going to shower today." She questions.

"I mean," he says uninterested around a mouth full of food. "As much as I love this new hobo look I'm rocking I think I'll shower and start anew."

"Well for the sake of my nostrils, and freshly painted walls I'd rather not have peeling I god damned hope so."

He rolls his eyes and takes a swig of the orange juice to wash away the rest of his breakfast. Putting the orange juice away he tells her he's going to shower and that when he's done he wants to go out to the beach later with her and then laundry mat. Tate never understood the importance of separating colors and whites.

"I'll make sure to wear my best pair of tights." She teases at the uneventful day he has planned.

"Well I fucking hope so," he quotes her words from earlier. "I'm worth it." He finishes being encircled by the darkness of the hallway as he goes. She puffs out a breathy snort and hops off the counter to get dressed then smoke.

**Short chapter I know but I had no time to get this done. Update soon- Trish**


	3. Chapter 3

The monotonous twirl of colors and suds is actually quite hypnotic if you stare at it for a while. Violet amused herself picking at the frayed end of her shoelace while Tate read the Great Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe she had lent him. They first decided to get the most insipid activity of the day out of the way first, hauling a bag of Tate's week long adventure of clothes into Dahlia, Violets very old pride and joy pickup truck. In truth, Dahlia really should have been traded in years ago, with her battered frame, tethered interior, and constant need for makeshift replacements. But you couldn't tell that to Violet, and if you tried your words fell flat under the heavy, perilous stare better known as _the look._

After a while Tate put the book away purely because he had read it once before and was much more content with not thinking for a while. Most of his life he was always thinking too much, too fast. It's as though the world and all its horrors were coming at him all at once, the universe was spinning too quick for him to handle and he couldn't get a hold on reality. That's when the voices kicked in, ushering him to spill the blood of others by slitting throats and blowing bullet holes in the back of people's skulls to send them somewhere that the world spins at the perfect pace for grasping.

"Are you planning to finish high school or are you just going to be a drop out?" She provokes him as she grabs her cigarettes and catches one between her teeth, pulling it from the pack and setting embers to the end.

"…"

His lack of a not only a retorted response but a response at all catches her off guard. She doesn't like being caught off guard.

"Tate?"

The call of his name forces him to look at her which, before that moment he had been trying to avoid as if it were death itself. When he finally does look at her she has blue smoke falling from her lips curling around her head and the way it looks when illuminated from the harsh fluorescent light seemed as if it were a halo. She looks angelic.

"Yeah?"

"What do you know that I don't?" she questions, something twirls in and overpowers the curiosity that should be in her voice. She's angry.

"Well I sort of already did," he states tentatively as if talking to a wounded animal. "I got my GED."

Violets brows instantly stitch together as her lips part and a small sigh of disappointment and disbelief whistle past them. She looks up as the ceiling shaking her head while another sigh swishes between her teeth, but this time she's irritated, furious even.

She extinguishes her cigarette against the heel of her shoe, purposefully getting up and pushing past the laundry mats doors, tossing the stub as she goes. She wasn't going to deal with that load of bullshit, not now.

"God dammit." Tate muses to himself, pushing off the chair to go after her.

Violet doesn't turn around or even falter the stride in her step when she hears the slap of sneakers hitting concrete or the calls of a bemused voice gaining ground behind her. Its only when long, strong fingers weave around her right arm that she even acknowledges his presence at all. Whirling out of his grip and pushing hard against his chest she finally yells

"FUCK YOU!" she pounds against his chest. It doesn't hurt, but it's annoying. Still he lets her continue the assault on him. Working out her frustrations along his torso.

"WERE YOU EVER EVEN GONNA TELL ME IF I HADNT ASKED?" she howls, each word punctuated with a blow to his pectorals as she advances on him.

"OF COURSE!" he roars back "What did you want me to do walk right back in and just 'oh hey vi by the way I got my GED'?"

"Oh cut the shit Tate, you had every opportunity to tell me in the past twenty four hours. What were you waiting for the proper lighting to let me down again in just the right way?"

He opens his mouth to object but she cuts him off "Do you have any idea how it makes me feel when you leave? What, I'm not enough to stick around through the shit in your life? You know, believe it or not Tate my world doesn't revolve around you, one day you're gonna leave and not find me here when you get back. Then when you do get back you don't tell me where you've been or what happened. Some day you're gonna find you pushed me away so far you won't be able to see me from the great distance you've put between us."

"I don't mean to push you away vi, you're my best friend." He whispers looking down at her hurt pooling in his eyes, the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her, yet he does it so well and by the sounds of it, has been for a while. "I want to tell you everything, and I will. It's just, it needs time. Something is gonna happen vi and it's gonna happen soon. When it does I'll tell you everything and more I promise."

Her face softens, she's still mad but a comfort she doesn't dare call out settles through her. He never broke his promises to her. Ever.

"Let's go finish the damn wash." She says, starting for the mat tugging at his elbow; a sign of truce from ushering him along. He told her he promised her the truth when the time came. She just has to wait for the big bang.


	4. Chapter 4

Loading Tate's cluster fuck of clothes back into Dahlia he says.

"I really was going to tell you, but if I knew you were going to react like that I might have rethought." He laughs.

She punches him in the arm as she rounds the car and opens the driver's side door. The sound of babies being brutally murdered erupts from the hinges.

"I love the sound of squealing pigs in the morning." He says as he slides in the passenger's side. She flips him the bird putting dahlia in reverse and sending a sideways stare to the back window to start for the beach.

…

A sea salt splashing against your face and lighting your body on fire with goose bumps like fingers ghosting over your skin is how Tate would spend every day, if he could. Violet had a cigarette draped between her lips, idly dancing it around with the tip of her tongue, staring out into the vast expanse of wavering water.

"You going to light that?" he says not looking at her, he's still to entranced by the ocean. He's missed it.

"I can't." Her lips mumble around the filter. "I ran out of matches and forgot my lighter."

Tate props himself up off his elbows, which he had been leaning, on to reach in his pocket, fingers grasping a lighter and pulling it out. His thumb striking the lighter, she leans forward, pointer and middle finger clenching around the filter for extra support, and sets the tip on fire. Shoving the lighter back in his pocket, Violet leans on one elbow sucking on her cigarette, dousing her blood in nicotine. He mirrors the action and stares back at the sea.

"Thanks," she says, words accommodated with a cloud of blue smoke.

"The pleasure is all mine Miss Harmon." He states, a long silence follows, the best kind of silence. A silence that isn't filled with awkward tension and words you want to say but won't for the sake of yourself and the other. It's a content silence, and it engulfs them in the most delightful way.

"I missed you." She states simply, cutting through the silence.

"I know." He says with no hint of sarcasm. "I missed you too."

"Where did you go?"

He smirks sideways at her flashing his pearly whites. "Never land."

She lets out and exasperated puff of blue smoke, of course he wouldn't tell her where he went, he never did before. He gives her a sad smile that she ignores. He wants to tell her where he went, he really does but most of the time he's too shit face to even remember who he is let alone where he's been. Usually he ends up on the side of highways, under bridges, broke down motel rooms, and abandon buildings. All places he's not exactly proud to say he's been just to get away, and the past few times he has run away he has to keep it a secret because it's for her.

"All in goodtime." He says

"Fuck you." She says an octave too low and pouty to be serious.

He laughs as she offers up a puff of her cigarette and accepts it thankfully.

"So why did you go off and get your GED?"

"Are you kidding me? I couldn't get out of that shithole faster. All the fuck tart dumbasses made me want to blow my brains out." He wanted to mention that they made him want to blow their brains out too but sustained himself.

"Oh so you're just going to abandon me to deal with the shitheads myself?" she questions "You were like my saving grace and now I'll be completely alone and bored with the fuckers."

"No. not abandon. I'll never abandon you. You were are just as much of my saving grace as I am yours and without you nothing would be the same. I just refuse to deal with stupid people any longer. I think of it as getting a kick start in the real world."

She laughs "You wouldn't know the real world if it smacked you in the face."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Rolling her eyes she says, "Because Tate, your whole life consists of running away from your problems to pretend they don't exist. Like a game of make believe. Pretending your problems don't exist when you're gone to feel better for the moment. Then pretending you didn't do all the things you did when you were away to make yourself feel better about leaving at all. That's not real, and yet it's all you know."

He crinkles his nose in an unsatisfied way. The truth in her words embitters a sour taste on his tongue. It's true, what she said, but he's trying to change. Which is why he's been gone longer periods of time lately. He's working on something he hopes she'll be proud of once he finally shows her.

She's always been stronger than him. Always been able to accept her life and that she's not going to always like it so you just have to keep going.

"I'm sorry." He says because he knows it hurts her when he leaves.

She nods in response.

"We're gonna be ok, alright?" he asks.

She gives him _that _smile. That sad smile you do to get yourself and the person through a lie that so obviously isn't true. But it is true and he isn't lying and he's determined to prove that to her.

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Can we talk about how stunning Taissa was at the premiere last night? I cant i just cant. and Evan's bod was too fucking much for me to handle.


	5. Chapter 5

Curled in Violets makeshift fort in her room Tate flips through violets various horror movies looking for the perfect one to kick off the marathon. The movie marathon was usually the last part to Tate's little getaway at Violets house, once the movies ended and dawn rolled in he would usually be gone before she could wake. His possessions and all the evidence from the night before would disappear, almost like it was never there, like _he_ was never there. She would wake up with the room pristine and empty. Sometimes it made her feel alone but she would down a bottle of bleach before she admits that maybe she's not okay anymore, or that She never was.

Crawling into the hut of blankets and sheets, supported by furniture and paperweights on all fours Violet drags in a huge pillowcase full of the best junk food you can get with a bag of popped popcorn dangling between clenched teeth and sealed lips for caution.

"Have you picked out a damn movie yet?" she breathes around the bag of popcorn.

"Yeah, Actually I do."

He pops in "The Exorcist" and roughly yanks the bag of popcorn from her mouth while she's organizing the pillows and sheets in just the way she likes them.

"Prick." She calls as he flashes her a huge clump of chewed popcorn, wiggling his tongue around for extra irritation.

"Why is it that you only eat the food I want?"

"Because, it tastes better knowing you can't have it."

Rolling her eyes at the stupidity in that statement, she flops down on her stomach snatching back the bag of popcorn as he fishes through the pillow case in search of a new snack.

Its childish they know, making forts, teasing each other, but it's kind of making up for lost time. Making the childhood they never fully had seem somewhat real. Violet smiles at the thought for a reason she can't quite pinpoint.

"Remember when you used to sleep over all the time but when you turned six my parents said it's not appropriate anymore, and my mom told me "boys realize girls don't actually have cooties and they start to have nice feelings about them". So I told them you have nice feelings about boys and they believed me?" She shakes with laughter, stuttering out each word.

"Well, our parents weren't the most attentive ones in the bunch." He deadpans, smirking at her sideways.

"The only thing our parents excel at is sucking at everything." She says cackling slightly rocking to and fro on her back and he can't help but smile at her because she always gets silly at night. It's as though some invisible force in the night comes and breaks down her sky-high wall, one brick at a time.

Somewhere in between stuffing their face and reminiscing on their parents idiocy, Violet falls into a deep sleep while Tate stays awake, content with watching her peaceful expression. He loved the way her lower lip would sometimes jut out in a form of a pout and slightly pucker itself, or how sometimes the moonlight shone on her, and her alone, turning cream skin blue and red lips pale. He wonders if there was ever a time her beauty didn't stifle his breath or make his heart skip, but cant. He can't think of a time she wasn't beautiful. He always thought she could outshine the brightest stars, and for him she did.

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Hey, sorry i haven't posted recently some personal things have been going on and I didn't have the time to write but I hauled a load of fat ass to post this chapter for all you lovely readers. enjoy (I hope)


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys, sorry i haven't updated in awhile, things have been crazy with school and my personal life and I haven't been able to post but I'm NOT going anywhere I promise.**

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Like a bad habit Violet can't break, her eyes shoot open, searching for Tate. She doesn't know why she does it, she knows he won't be there. But, she hopes that maybe one day when she does wake up, he will be there intertwined in the sheets next to her. Rolling over she presses the sleep from her eyes with the tips of her fingers while crawling from the fort. Stumbling into the bathroom Violet turns on the shower and brushes her teeth while she waits for the water to get warm, stepping in once the mirror is fogged with steam.

Once she finishes showering and dressing, she heads down to the kitchen, deeply craving a cigarette and cup of coffee. Turning the corner into her kitchen she comes face to face with a table piled high with pancakes, eggs, bacon, omelets, toast, waffles, and fruits. A sight Violet hasn't seen since before her dad left their asses for dead, with her mom holding the door open for him. At the sink, washing the pans and pots used to conjure up all the foods, was her mother. With her back turned to her the only thing Violet could see was her mother's red ringlets, which tumbled past her shoulders and over her silken robe, with her hips rhythmically swaying in tune with the melody she's humming to herself. Even though she rolls her eyes at this she can't help but smile because for the first time in a long time her mother seemed truly happy. Delusional and slightly irritating, but happy. She clears her throat, purposefully catching the attention of her mother.

Turning toward Violet she grants her a model worthy smile so big her baby blues flatten out into incredibly small slits, crinkling at the corners and enhancing her forming crow's feet. She would have looked stupid with a smile that big on her face if she didn't have those pretty blue eyes.

"Hey baby." she breathes tiredly.

"Hey." Violet replies, voice guarded. She's not stupid, her mother would not just randomly go out of her way and break the cycle of benign neglect for no reason. She's about to drop a bomb on her and Violet just really isn't in the mood.

"C'mon and sit down, let's have some breakfast." She says too syrupy sweet, gesturing toward the chair.

"Okay?"

"Do you want to have some pancakes?"

"What's this about?" Violet questions, she already feels herself becoming bloated with all the bullshit she's eating right now.

Completely nonplussed by the blunt statement, obviously cutting short this whole act she had going she asks. "What do you mean? I just wanted to cook breakfast and sit down with you for once. I missed this."

"Mom, you haven't been home when I wake up let alone cooked me breakfast for almost 9 months. So now out of the blue, you're suddenly wanting to act like a happy-go-lucky parent?"

A deep frown etches itself in her mother's features with her bottom lip jutting out in a defensive type way.

"Violet, look." She begins sounding tired and worn down. "I know I haven't been a hell of a great mother lately. It's just with your father and all and me having to pick up more hours and look for a second job…"

She pauses collecting her thoughts before continuing. "Things have been crazy around here that's all. But just because life got a little hectic doesn't mean it was okay for me to put my daughter on hold while I figured it out. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair that I acted like what was happening in this house only affected me. I'm so sorry baby, I'm so sorry things haven't been okay for us and that I haven't been spending time with you. I'm sorry you have to act like an adult and deal with all this shit but I'm trying. I promise I will get my stuff together, and I promise I will try to make things as normal as possible around here. No more walking on egg shells, I know you can handle the truth, okay?"

She was taken aback by her mother's speech but not satisfied. She made a lot of promises to Violet she didn't keep, what made this time so different?

Pushing away from the table, legs screeching loudly as they scraped across the floor, Violet grabbed her bag with an apple and headed for the door.

"HEY! Don't you want breakfast?" her mother called after her, desperate for some form of verbal response. To answer, she simply waved her apple around in the crisp winter air.

She couldn't deal with that load of bullshit before school and her morning coffee and wouldn't pretend she could.

Hopping into Dahlia she lights a cigarette ashing it out the window as she drives. The cool air burns against her face, but she doesn't care. It kind of numbs her, and it's nice to feel numb after you've felt too much for too long.

It wasn't even seven A.M and she already knew she was in for a long day. What she didn't know was just how true she was and how what would happen today would change everything forever. The earth's axis would tilt and her whole world would be thrown off center.


End file.
